


So Cold

by LilyCissa



Series: Sterek "Meet Ugly" [11]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Agent Carter!Lydia, Alternative Universe - Superheroes, Captain America!Stiles, Crossover, First Meetings, Iron Man!Deaton, Loki!Peter, M/M, Winter Soldier!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 07:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4011934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyCissa/pseuds/LilyCissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say you see your life flashing before your eyes just before you die. Could it be your eyes saw not your life, but someone else’s? He remembered, and despite the crushing sadness, he couldn’t suppress a smile.<br/>How did the meet, huh? A rocambolesque story, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Cold

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot is based on a prompt by Tokiosunset :  
> "I get really sick on roller-coasters and you had the misfortune of sitting in front of me so, uh… sorry…"  
> Turns out I didn't really use the prompt, yet I hope you'd still like it.

 

Stiles Stilinski let the photograph fall on the floor. It was an old one, yellowed by the years. A soldier, proud and smiling. He remembered him before all of that happened. How did they even get here? Now he was strong, able to defend himself and others and he knew it did matter, but in the end, he still felt like he didn't had a raison d'être. He let himself fall into his bed, oblivious of his red, blue and silver shield resting nearby.

They say you see your life flashing before your eyes just before you die. Could it be your eyes saw not your life, but someone else's? He remembered, and despite the crushing sadness, he couldn't suppress a smile.

How did the meet, huh? A rocambolesque story, really. Stiles relived the scene, too vividly for his own good. There was a funfair, and that day he didn't feel like sitting in front of his desk, trying to draw a badly written comics about a superhero preventing war. That was so naive, no one would buy it. Yet, Stiles couldn't help but write this kind of stories. He had nothing else in mind. The funfair was a way to escape, really. He didn't have much money, and was aware that spending it on a ride was nothing but folly. In these days, he was only skin and bones and honestly, he should have known this little innocent-looking ride would make him sick. Too bad for the military man sitting just in front of him. Stiles remembered feeling truly sorry for himself and the stranger: he felt ashamed for being so weak, and even more ashamed for vomiting all over a man who deserved every bit of respect.

"Don't worry lad. I've seen worse." the soldier said as he offered his hand. "Sergeant Derek Hale."

Stiles was almost too sick and surprised to answer, but eventually did. They shook hands, Derek with a firm grip, Stiles with hesitation.

Without really knowing how, they became friends. And war came. Stiles, with his condition, couldn't even hope to join the army. He wasn't strong, he couldn't fight, he only had his will. Yet, he soon discovered that will and personality is all that matters in the end. That, and a little bit of weird science. He finally was able to join, only to take part in one of Deaton's experiments. He wished he could have told Derek about it. He wished they hadn't all these secrets between them, even after all of these years. He played the lab rat for mad scientists who, for once, didn't mess things up too much. He came out of it stronger, faster, healthier. He was a superhuman, a supersoldier. However, inside, he still felt like the old Stiles, the weak and feeble one.

That's the story how Stiles Stilinski became Captain America. A little pompous a name, yet a good one. Too bad he was only seen as a piece of advertising, a eye-candy symbol in the U.S. propaganda. That couldn't work, not like that. Stiles didn't sign for this: he was tired of feeling useless, far from the real fights, overlooked. He needed to be on the field, to actually help people and keep his word. He joined the army to fight for freedom, not to serve as a puppet for the real soldier's entertainment. Agent Martin knew that. She was maybe the only person who saw Stiles how he really was inside: still the old one, the feeble and fragile boy who tried to hard to put his life to save others'.

When he met Derek again, Stiles realized he was like Lydia. He managed to see past the muscles and strong jawbone to acknowledge him as just Stiles. Same as always. In a world of façades, Derek Hale saw through and Stiles loved him for that.

The word finally came up in his head. Still lying in his bed, not wanting to reach for the photograph on the floor, Stiles let out his tears. He loved him. He loved him so much loosing him was like losing a limb.

Derek S. Hale was the only member of the Howling Commandos to give his life on the field, and Stiles never had the time to mourn. Not until he woke up from his icy sleep between life and death. Losing everything isn't the worst thing in life, because it's when you don't have anything to lose that you're really free. No, what Stiles was crying about wasn't losing Derek or Lydia. It was, in fact, not completely losing them.

Lydia was old now. She got over Stiles' disappearance, made her own life, lived it without him. Now she was an old woman with a withering mind. And Derek wasn't dead. After all these decades, he had the same face. They could put on mask on it, a muzzle, let his hair grow, upgrade him with a metallic arm, do whatever they wanted, Derek would always be Derek. And as he saw the real Stiles behind the superhero costume, Stiles still saw the real Derek behind the supervillain gear.

"Derek…?"

"Who the hell is Derek?"

But he knew, and Stiles knew he knew. Something shivered within his eyes: doubt, remembrance. In the monster they made him, there was still a bit of Derek left. Seeing Stiles in his Cap gear, hearing his name with his voice, all of that was more powerful than any brainwashing. They fought, of course, they had to, but in the end, Captain America was alive only because of The Winter Soldier. Derek was still inside: stuck in the darkness, he just needed a spark to lit everything up. To remain human and himself. And then he was gone.

Not lost. Just gone. Stiles couldn't bear his absence anymore. He had a lot of things to do now, things that kept his mind busy, yet it all went back to Derek somehow. Where was he? Who was he with? Whom he was fighting for? Would he come back? Literally and metaphorically? Did he know? Does he know I…? Does he…? Does he love me? The questions were killing Stiles.

Time passed by until he heard someone knocking on the door. He couldn't be seen like this. Stiles got up quickly, rubbed his cheeks and tried to look normal. The door opened.

"Alan."

The scientist looked puzzled all of a sudden.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah… What's wrong?" There was always something wrong, especially when it came to Deaton's inventions.

"Peter escaped."

Stiles sighed, but seized his vibranium shield.

"I guess we're in for a little Bifröst ride!"

"Yep!"

They smiled, but something was off. Deaton could only look back, noticing the old photograph on the floor. Interesting, but they had more important matters to attend right now: a certain God of Mischief was on the loose again.


End file.
